


Meet Me at Midnight

by PeterT3



Category: Banana Bus Squad, Gay baby gang, The Misfits - Fandom
Genre: BBS, Fluff, GBG - Freeform, I just really wanted just a cutesy one, M/M, Smii7yoz, krii7y - Freeform, krii7y is apparently dying and it needs to stay alive, let! these! sweet! boys! go! on! cute! awkward! dates!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 15:38:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15710190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeterT3/pseuds/PeterT3
Summary: His phone blinks, lighting up part of his bedroom with a dim glow. He picks it up, staring at the text message that greets him on the screen."My place, midnight. Bring your skateboard.- John"





	Meet Me at Midnight

 Taking a deep breath, he unlatched and pushed open his window as slowly and as quietly as possible. Leaning out into the warm air of the summer night, he placed his skateboard on the roof under the window. He watched it roll and slip off the roof, falling to crash softly in the shrub on the ground. Smiling, he climbed out of the window in sweat pants and a hoodie. He slung a backpack onto his shoulder and made his way off of the roof and into the yard. The boy dug his skateboard out from the bushes and walked out to the curb. Glancing around, the street was dead, the streetlights above illuminating an empty midnight road. Perfect.

He dropped his skateboard, stepping on and kicking off. Turning off of his street, he rode past dark houses and mysterious, towering trees standing in front lawns. He passed empty coffee shops and lit up convenience stores. The rattle of his wheels against the pavement brought a wave of relief and assurance over him, and he sighed. The crickets of the night time chirped a welcoming song, a small and sweet greeting as he turned onto the correct street.  _ Coriander Road _ , the sign read above his head.

 

 John once told him the meaning of the street name. He had asked one time, as they walked home to John’s house after school. 

“Coriander,” John had said. “It’s a plant. Mrs. H., the lady at number 41, said that wild coriander would grow everywhere before they built all the houses.” He remembered John, elbowing him with a smirk, as he said, “You know, coriander symbolises love and lust.” He had shoved John with a laugh, gaining a chuckle as he told him to shut up.

 

 He smiled, stepping off of his board and setting it by the sidewalk. He walked up the stone pathway, staring up at a second floor window, a soft glow of light visible through the curtains. The boy climbed up the side of the porch, crawling onto the railing and pulling himself up onto the roof. The window across the roof slid open, a face poking itself out from the now dark room. Bleached platinum hair was caught in the breeze as John climbed out.

“Took you long enough, Smit,” he huffed.

“Shut up,” Smit grinned, sitting on the edge of the rooftop as he watched John slowly shut his window. “My mom got up when I went to leave; had to wait ‘til she went back to bed.” 

 

Smit stood to follow John as he slipped off the roof carefully. John left to go into the backyard, meeting Smit by the road with his bike. The younger boy kicked off on his skateboard, the other trailing beside him on the bicycle. 

“Where we going tonight?” Smit asked, glancing at John. His heart swelled as he looked at the older. Eyes shining under the streetlights, hair pulled back in a small ponytail, soft, pink lips curled in a slight smile. 

John hummed, smile growing as he kept his eyes forward.

“You’ll see.”

 

 John swung his legs off of his bike, dropping it down behind a tree trunk. Smit stepped off his board and kicked it up, putting it down beside John’s bike. He stared out into the dark trees, menacing and looming in front of them. A shiver clawed at his spine.

“The woods? At, like, one in the morning?”

John grabbed his hand, giving him a reassuring smile before pulling him down the nature trail. “I wanna show you something,” John said simply.

Smit was amazed at how calm John was, seemingly unfazed as he led him through the eerie black forest. Crickets and the hoots of a distant owl called out to them, guiding them deeper into the trees. Leaves crunched and crinkled under their feet, John slowing to kick a branch with his boot. It may have still been summer, but autumn and the wither that came with it was fast approaching.

 

 Smit, trying to distract himself from the thousand eyes that he felt were watching them, he picked up John’s hand that he still held. He fiddled with the rings that decorated John’s fingers, running his thumb over his knuckles and rubbing at the polish that coloured his nails. John was unique, he was an individual and he was himself. John was.. Well,  _ John.  _ Smit loved that.

 

 Running water pulled him from his thoughts. He looked to John, who remained silent, a soft smirk still on his face. It’s something he’s noticed; whenever Smit comes around, John always has a smile. John guided Smit down to the creekside, a river rushing and splashing past the rocks that acted like a natural shield, blocking them from the water. Smit dropped John’s hand, jumping up onto the rocks and swinging his arms in a panic, keeping his balance as best as possible. He laughed shakily, glancing over his shoulder at the other boy, watching him climb up onto the rock beside him. John jutted his head towards upstream, saying to Smit, “C’mon, gotta keep going.”

“I didn’t know there was a river down here,” Smit said, staring at his feet walking across the jagged rocks. 

“You don’t know a lot of things, Smitty,” John chuckled.

“Hey!”

Smit batted a hand at him, immediately deciding it was a mistake as he nearly knocked himself off balance. John noticed and spun, grabbing Smit’s hand to steady him. Smit felt his cheeks turn red, a warm feeling blossoming in his face and chest. John just laughed at him and his clumsiness, not seeming to notice his heavy blush. He casually intertwined their fingers and brought Smit down to walk with him on the pebbles beside the rushing water, pulling him along.

 

 Looking up at the dark sky, he noted the stars to John, who hummed and glanced up for a moment. Smit couldn’t recognize anything but the Big Dipper, and what he figured was the North Star, but he saw more stars then he could from his own window. He knew they weren’t that far out, maybe just on the edge of the suburbs.

“You should come up with me to Canada one time,” Smit suggested. 

John turned to look at him, slowing to walk beside him instead in front. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. We’d probably be able to see more stars from there than here. Maybe see something other than the most blatant constellation in the world.”

 The older laughed. “God, I hope so. I hate being stuck in the city. I need to see places.” Smit nodded, letting John continue his little ramble. “We should travel somewhere together. Not in the city, somewhere.. Vast. Mysterious. I want to wake up, hearing you knocking at my window, or I’ll be knocking on yours, and we’d just wander together.”

 “You think so?” Smit whispered.

 “I do,” John looked at him, his heart thumping against his ribs as he gazed into Smit’s coffee brown eyes. “Maybe do something dumb along the way. Like steal a dog. Or get a tattoo.” He chuckled as Smit threw his head back in laughter. 

“A tattoo?” Smit repeated, staring up at the highway bridge they approached, towering overhead. “What tattoos would we get?”

 “What, matching ones?”

 “Sure.”

 “Hm. I dunno,” John mumbled. “Maybe something cheesy. Like those ones you always see on Pinterest. Ones of puzzle pieces, or P.B. and J. Maybe milk and cookies?”

 “Do you actually go on Pinterest or something?”

 “..No.”

Smit snorted, covering his mouth with his baggy hoodie sleeve. John sighed dramatically. “Only looking for rings! They sometimes link to cute Etsy pages.”

He gushed jokingly at John, pinching his cheeks only to be swatted away.

 

“Up here,” John called as he turned away. He pulled himself over the rock shields, jumping off the other side. Smit noticed the sudden echo as they came under the bridge, a vast yet enclosed space. He followed John as he scaled the side of the embankment. As he got closer, he noticed it leveled out to be nearly flat and spotted a small set up that John stood by. Two folding lawn chairs, a plastic bucket in between them that acted like a makeshift table with a gas lamp on top.

“What’s this?” Smit asked, walking up to John. 

“It’s a little hang out I set up not too long ago,” John explained, sitting down in one of the two chairs. “If we want, we can get some more chairs, bring the other guys here. But for now, I thought it could be something for the two of us, y’know?” 

Smit sat in the other chair as John flicked on the small gas lamp, a sudden burst of light illuminating their area.

“I like it,” Smit said softly. “We can bring in, like, a cooler. Maybe a picnic blanket as a rug. Lighten it up a bit more, yeah?”

John cursed, snapping his fingers and looking away, back towards the river bank. “A cooler! Damn, I knew I should’ve gotten something else.”

Smit reached over, placing a hand on John’s cheek. John hesitantly looked back over at him, once again getting himself caught in Smit’s eyes, ones that he loved so much. His breath caught in his throat as Smit smiled at him. 

“It’s perfect, John,” he whispered.

 

Smit didn’t move his hand, nor did John move it for him. Time felt frozen for that moment, sitting in those two lawn chairs that John stole from his dad, on the embankment under a bridge, surrounded by nothing but the emptiness of the forest. Nothing but them. It was as if, if either of them moved, everything perfect would be ruined, burned to the ground.

But, then again.. Maybe not.

 

 John felt Smit’s hand move from his cheek to the back of his neck, pulling him forward cautiously. John leaned forward over his chair’s armrest, eyes flickering between Smit’s lips and his eyes. He took a deep, careful breath, shutting his eyes and closing the distance. Smit kissed back slowly, tangling his fingers in John’s hair as he felt John’s hands rest themselves on his sides. John’s lips felt soft under his, sickly sweet, tasting like a strange mix of coffee and pink lemonade. 

 

They pulled apart, Smit’s hands returning to hold John’s face, whereas John’s remained at the other’s waist. Their chests heaved, pink lips and red cheeks. They both laughed softly, nervous and excited.

“That, uh..” John said quietly with a chuckle.

Smit smiled, biting his lip. “Yeah.”

“I think I agree,” John mumbled. “A picnic blanket would be easier to make out on than lawn chairs.” The other nodded, giggling before kissing John again.

 


End file.
